#rumourmade

he stands outside her door nervously ; it’s a new feeling.  he’s never been afraid to barge into allison’s room, to take clothes and makeup and nail polish while she yelled at him half-heartedly and they both pretended she wasn’t laughing to make it feel like she had more power there.  if she wanted to stop him she would ; she never has.  that’s not the kind of relationship they have.

so why is he nervous now? 

because he knows what he heard.  smashing and screaming and begging - but if anyone would be able to bring back the dead based on their powers alone it would be klaus, and he can’t.  he’s tried.

the whole house is a tense state of chaotic anger.  the only one not cut up into pieces with grief is klaus ; because he doesn’t have to be.  he exists in a strange tandem, was told about ben being ripped into pieces by his own body, only to turn and see ben standing behind him.  the one ghost that can slip through his high ; klaus has convinced himself it’s because they’re brothers, but who knows, really.  he doesn’t know how his own powers work anyway.

finally, finally klaus turns the knob, pushes the door open.  there are clothes everywhere, posters ripped off the walls, bottles and tubes scattered around, thrown ; something’s shattered, perfume too strong in the room to be purposeful.  and allison lies on her side, small and curled up, and she looks so...sad.  pale and almost lifeless, and klaus hates it, hates that.  he closes the gap quickly, but slows as he gets closer.  

it takes some work, to lay himself down next to her, to work his hand into the tight ball of her limbs so that he can wrap his fingers around hers.  she’s not crying but he figures that’s because she already has - because she has nothing left.  

                     MARCUS  WAS  CONFUSED  by  the  sight  of  the  other.  though  the  sun  was  shining  outside  of  the  library,  the  lighting  inside  left  sight  to  be  desired.    why  anyone  would  wear  sunglasses  inside  a  dimly  lit  room  was  beyond  him.    though  against  his  better  judgement,  intrusive  thoughts  pestered  him  to  ask.    it  was  absolutely  none  of  his  business  ---    ❛   do  you  need  my  reading  light ?  i’m  not  using  it  right  now.  ❜  

  –––– jenna marbles / accepting .

allison just walks in, takes one look, shrugs, walks back out.

Uncharacteristically still, Klaus sits opposite an empty chair at the kitchen table. The house is silent; the others had long since retreated to their rooms for the night, leaving Klaus to do as he pleases. And right now, all he wants is to share a nightcap with Dave; something they’d often done during periods of leave.

But the whole thing is more bitter than sweet. He’d leaned Dave’s dog tags against the glass, hoping such a meaningful object would help him see the man he’d lost, but as the condensation rings surrounding the untouched glasses steadily grow into puddles, he begins to lose hope.

“Oh. Allison,” he drawls, tired eyes swinging over toward his sister when he finally realizes he’s not alone. “Hi.”

He’s not sure how long she’s been there--how long she’s watched him stare quietly across the table into nothingness--but he knows this is hardly the strangest thing she’s walked in on in this house. With the weight of private failure on his shoulders, he reaches for the tags and loops the chain over his head, letting them hang just above his heart. The cold from the glass having transferred to the metal, he shivers as they touch his bare skin.

“--care for a drink?” Klaus asks, holding one hand out to invite her to sit in the seat he’d saved for Dave. “Looks like I overpoured.”

there’s shattered glass all over the bathroom floor.  

it’s from the mirror, that much is obvious.  the edges still cling to the frame but the rest is in pieces ; in klaus’ fist.  he sits in the middle of it, palms pressed to his face, as though that’ll keep the tears at bay.  his knees are pulled up to his chest, bare feet curled against the cold tile.  he doesn’t - he can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t do anything.  everything is tight and uncomfortable, the air closing in, and he can’t find a way out.  

he feels a cool touch against his arm, jerks away, slides back and smacks his head against the tub.  curls in further, tries to retract, tries to make himself smaller.  falls into the same headspace he always does, black and dark and cool and safe.  

by the time he comes back into himself, he feels raw and unreal.  and still there’s a cool touch on his arm, there’s glass being picked out of his hand with gentle, precise movements.  soft words float around him, gentle and careful, and it takes klaus too long to figure out it’s allison. 

spotify lyrics | accepting

Klaus whirls around on the balls of his bare feet at her statement, eyes wide and grin exponentially wider. He’s excited to be included; he’s always had to twist their brothers’ arms to get them to agree to let him tag along, even as an afterthought. But Allison-- Imagined or not, he’s often felt she has a soft spot for him and his antics.

Hands clapping together, Klaus inhales sharply and leaves his fingertips steepled in front of his lips.